


The Art of Healing Hearts

by kenobiapologist



Series: Traditions (Jedi Tea Ceremony AU) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Moving Meditation, Padawan Ahsoka, Post-Episode: s02e08 Brain Invaders, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Rishi (Star Wars), Tea ceremony au, Teenage Anakin Skywalker, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, being the Chosen One is hard, it's all about the feelings you guys, master padawan camping trip, obi-wan kenobi is a nerd, young anakin and newly knighted obi-wan are just trying to figure things out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenobiapologist/pseuds/kenobiapologist
Summary: It starts as a last ditch effort to find a meditation method that works for Anakin. Obi-Wan teaches him to perform the steps of a tea ceremony he learned from Qui-Gon a long time ago. Over the years, it becomes a sort of moving meditation for both of them. A way to focus on the present, to chase away dark thoughts and create a peaceful space. Above all else, it is a way to show how much they care about each other.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Traditions (Jedi Tea Ceremony AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102475
Comments: 38
Kudos: 139





	1. Coruscant, 31 BBY

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by some lovely artwork and headcanons by [ms-gallows](https://ms-gallows.tumblr.com/post/624097717317222400/i-headcanon-that-obi-wan-taught-anakin-the-tea) about Obi-Wan teaching Anakin a tea ceremony. I fell in love with that idea and really ran with it, so I hope you all enjoy this little AU? of sorts. I based the Jedi tea ceremony on the Japanese tea ceremony (since that's what I'm most familiar with), which uses matcha instead of leaf tea. I hope I did it justice! 
> 
> There will be time-skips between chapters so we get to see them at different stages of their friendship. Have fun and let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art by @ms-gallows on tumblr!  
> [Obi-Wan and Anakin sharing a cup of tea](%E2%80%9C) <3

No one ever said having a Padawan was easy, but certainly it shouldn’t have been that hard to teach Anakin how to meditate. 

Obi-Wan had spent his fair share of time in the creche with the younglings during his own Padawan days, guiding the younglings in standard meditation sessions during afternoons in the Temple. Of course, sometimes one or two of them wouldn’t settle down at first, too riled up from the morning’s saber-training and ready to poke each other’s eyes out. It never lasted long. All it took was some gentle redirection, refocusing of the mind. 

Younglings raised in the Temple had been taught from the moment they could lift a pebble that their attention and restraint in the Force were of utmost importance in every exercise and lesson, to protect themselves and each other from injuring each other in body or spirit. Meditation helped them maintain the calmness and focus a Jedi needed to remain in control of their emotions. No matter how long it took, eventually every youngling found a way to appreciate the benefits of a meditation session with the Masters and Padawans.

Anakin was different. Some of the Council members chalked it up to him being too old to train as a Jedi, which had Obi-Wan’s blood boiling and his teeth grit to hold back choice words he wished to share in Anakin’s defense. How dare they doubt Anakin, he had thought. Since he’d become Obi-Wan’s Padawan the year before, in many ways Anakin had grown leaps and bounds ahead of his age-mates. His athleticism and ingenuity with mechanical contraptions left his teachers and Obi-Wan himself in awe, constantly surprised as the challenges one so young could overcome. Anakin was _so_ smart, and so bright in the Force that the air seemed to shimmer around him. The Force called to him, and therein lay the problem.

Anakin groaned, uncrossing his legs from the traditional pose they had been bent in to match Obi-Wan’s own posture. “Master, I—“

Obi-Wan cracked open one eye to look at Anakin and the young boy froze, his lips falling into a pitiful pout. Anakin refused to take up the position once more and Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh. He relaxed out of his own meditation and blinked away the vestiges of energy that hummed through his skin from focusing outside himself. He supposed he should have expected this. They’d been sitting there for a half hour and he hadn’t felt Anakin open up to the Force around them a single time. Their bond was unusually silent on his Padawan’s end whenever they tried meditating together and Obi-Wan had always thought it was Anakin’s lack of focus that was to blame. 

“Anakin, if you tell me that cushion is unsatisfactory one more time, I think I might lose my patience.”

“No, Master. It’s not that,” Anakin replied sullenly. The tone in his voice was different than past times he’d failed to meditate with Obi-Wan, and it had Obi-Wan confused and concerned. He waited patiently for Anakin to explain further, resting his hands on his knees and raising his eyebrow. 

Anakin just turned away from his gaze, casting his eyes to the floor. His lips were pulled into a tight frown, his brow furrowed as if he was struggling to pull an explanation up by the roots from a bed of stubborn dry soil.

“Well?”

“It’s too loud.” Anakin’s hand was picking at a thread on the side of his outer robe and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to swat his hand away from it. 

He was puzzled by Anakin’s words. It didn’t make sense. Their shared room in the Temple was practically silent. Although the traffic of Coruscant was passing by in the distance, the transparisteel windows and walls around them were made to block out the noise. They didn’t even have any neighboring Jedi in the rooms on either side. Obi-Wan’s silence just made Anakin huff and tuck his knees up to his chest.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Anakin asked, although he didn’t wait for an answer. “Just forget it.” He made to stand up and leave, but Obi-Wan reached out to grasp his shoulder and force him back down onto the cushion.

“Not so fast, young one.”

Anakin gave him a petulant glare at that. He was not fond of that particular nickname, Obi-Wan knew. Still, it kept Anakin seated.

“I want to understand, Anakin. We have to get to the bottom of this. It’s dangerous for you to go without meditating.”

“I’ve gone this long,” Anakin retorted.

“That’s no excuse and you know it,” Obi-Wan chided, his hand still resting on Anakin’s shoulder. “What do you mean when you say it’s too loud? I’ve tried to minimize any noises in the room, I’ve requisitioned different meditation cushions from the Temple stores five times. I rearranged the furniture when you said it was bothering you and we’ve tried to meditate at quite possibly every hour of a standard day and still something isn’t right. Forgive me, Anakin. I don’t know what more I can do to make you comfortable.”

“That’s the thing. It’s not your fault.” Anakin finally meets his gaze with a huff. “When I close my eyes and reach out like you said, it’s so loud in my head. And it’s not just sounds. My skin feels like someone is forcing me to stand behind a pod’s engines when they’re on. Like it’s going to burn me into a million pieces.” Now that Anakin had started to speak, it’s like he couldn’t stop. Obi-Wan could feel his own eyes widening at the strength of Anakin’s distress.

“Master, remember that time in the Temple gardens when they were teaching me how to swim?”

Obi-Wan nods quickly, his hand falling away as he sits back to listen.

“Afterward, some of my classmates stopped by to swim and they started playing a game with a ball that floated in the water. It looked like fun so I thought, ‘Hey, why don’t I join in?’ And it was fun, until my legs got tired and I started sinking. Padawan Terrin had to pull me out of the pond.” Anakin’s cheeks were turning red. He was clearly embarrassed to be talking about this.

“Is that why you were late to our lightsaber training that evening?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice taking on a surprisingly paternal tone. “You didn’t tell me you almost drowned, Anakin.”

“I’m fine! I’m fine, that wasn’t the point.” Anakin shook his head. “The point was, when I try to meditate, it’s like I’m getting mouthfuls of water and I forget how to breathe. My body feels like it’s going to explode—“ Anakin’s hands clenched into fists—“and I just can’t do it, okay?”

They sat there in silence, looking at each other. Anakin’s lip was quivering, a dangerous sign that he was on the verge of tears. Obi-Wan felt his heart clench at the sight. Anakin didn’t deserve this. He’d been nothing but willing to accept the Jedi teachings. But meditation was something he couldn’t seem to grasp no matter how hard either of them tried.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan finally said. “We’ll try something different.”

”Master,” Anakin said the honorific like a plea. “Don’t make me, please.”

“Anakin, trust me.” Obi-Wan looked into the boy’s eyes and smiled softly. “Just answer one question for me first.”

Anakin stared back at him, resisting the potential for more failed meditations in his future. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. “Fine.”

“When do you feel like things are quiet?”

It takes a moment for Anakin to answer.

“I think—“ Anakin paused to consider his words—“when I’m in Master Shan’s class.”

Obi-Wan hummed in acknowledgement. “Because you’re working with machines?”

Anakin’s eyes brightened and the frown melted off his face. “Yeah, it feels good to figure out how all of the pieces go together,” he said, flexing his fingers in front of himself. “Master Shan wanted everyone to start building their own mouse droid, but he’s letting me put together my own astromech. Isn’t that wizard?”

“Sounds like it,” Obi-Wan said, smiling. 

“I think I’m going to work on it in my freetime too, just to see if I can add some upgrades to the memory core,” Anakin started to rattle off the list of improvements he wanted to make to the droid and Obi-Wan nodded along. A plan was starting to come together in his mind. Anakin enjoyed working with his hands, and found peace in the patterns and motions of building something. It reminded him of an old ritual he’d learned a long time ago. Just thinking of it brought a wave of sorrow crashing down on him.

Before Anakin could ask any questions about the strange sadness he no doubt felt from Obi-Wan’s side of their training bond, he patted Anakin’s knee and stood up. “Well, don’t let me keep you from the droid you’re constructing,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. “Just make sure you’re ready tomorrow evening for a meditation session, if I can even call it that.”

Anakin gave him a curious look, but when Obi-Wan didn’t elaborate, the boy clambered to his feet and hurried off to his bedroom to grab a toolkit and a box of scraps. Minutes later, he was out the door. “Always on the move,” Obi-Wan muttered, his lips tugging into a soft smile.

  
  


Anakin was in his room after dinner the following evening, giving Obi-Wan plenty of time to set up all of the necessary utensils for their “meditation.” As the sun began to set behind the Coruscanti skyline, the door to Anakin’s room slid open and he walked out into the sitting area between their shared quarters. Instead of sitting on one of the usual cushions, Obi-Wan knelt on a square woven mat with his socked feet tucked underneath him. Anakin didn’t say anything, although their bond flickered with confusion at the seemingly random assortment of objects Obi-Wan was surrounded with. They were both at the point of trying anything before casting doubt, if only to break through Anakin’s block on true meditation. 

“Come here,” Obi-Wan beckoned, patting the space beside him. “Sit beside me.”

Anakin did as he was told, mirroring Obi-Wan’s position. His eyes were surveying the containers and wooden utensils with suspicion, as if a womp rat was going to pop out and scare him at any second. “What is all of this?”

“It’s what we’re going to use to make tea,” Obi-Wan said simply. 

Anakin blinked a few times, as if he hadn’t heard right. “Tea? Like the kind you drink in the morning?”

Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. “Yes, and no. Unlike the pre-packaged abominations I resign myself to drinking everyday, the preparation of this tea is more complicated. Making it is almost more important than drinking it.”

“So it’s special tea,” Anakin summarized. He didn’t look impressed, but he hadn’t complained yet, so Obi-Wan pushed forward.

“Anakin, this is something Qui-Gon taught me many years ago.” Obi-Wan picked up the small black canister in front of him, twisting it in his hands so that Anakin can see the delicate patterns painted on the sides in gold. “The act of preparing tea to share with another, or _chado_ , is a way we can show respect, but also a way of creating a peaceful space together. There are a set number of steps and a specific order to memorize, but I think the movements could be useful to aid your focus before meditating.” He let Anakin cradle the small canister while he lit a flame underneath a heavy metal pot to his left. “And it reminds me of Qui-Gon.”

When he was finished, he turned back to see Anakin running his fingers over the painted sides, tracing over the design as if he was trying to decipher it like writing. When he realized he was being watched, his gaze snapped back to Obi-Wan and he held out the canister to him with a smile.

“I want to learn, Master.”

The spark of interest in Anakin’s blue eyes was all it took for any remaining apprehension to leave Obi-Wan’s mind. From in front of him, he picked up a small synthsilk cloth and held it in front of him, letting his hands fall into the routine of folding it, running his hands over the smooth fabric and collapsing it down into a small rectangle.

“The first step is to purify the tools we are going to use to make the tea.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose. “Are they not clean?”

“They are, but passing the cloth over them signifies the start of the ceremony,” Obi-Wan explained as he wiped the black tea canister on the tops and sides, spinning it methodically in his hand. “As we clean the tools, we also clean our minds of anything that might be distracting us.”

“So we can be in the present,” Anakin echoed.

“Yes, exactly.” Obi-Wan nodded, giving Anakin an approving glance. He continued to clean the other tools, pouring some warm water into a shallow bowl and placing a small whisk into it.

“What is that?” Anakin asked, his fingers twitching from their place in his lap as if he wanted to reach out and poke the whisk.

Obi-Wan dipped the whisk into the water, rotating it methodically. He lifted it up from the bowl and a single droplet fell, making a soft _plink_ as it returned to the water below. “This is a whisk made from flexible wood,” he explained, finishing the cleansing process and dumping the used water into a separate jar beside him. “We use it to mix the tea into the hot water so it blends evenly.”

Anakin seemed perplexed, and still a little fidgety.

“I’ll let you have a turn, don’t worry,” he said with a smile, watching as Anakin’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. 

“Master, you said you’re going to mix in the tea. Aren’t there leaves and stuff?”

Obi-Wan had to stifle a laugh. He’d forgotten that Anakin wasn’t familiar with the finely ground powder used in Qui-Gon’s ceremony. His hands continued the steps without his attention, his fingers folding a second cloth to wipe the inside of the shallow bowl. He could feel a comforting warmth seep from the clay bowl into his hands and let out a slow breath. It had been over two years since he’d laid hands on this ceremonial tea set. The last time Obi-Wan had used it, he and Qui-Gon had been afforded a brief respite on Coruscant to re-center before another diplomatic mission. After sharing tea together, Obi-Wan had packed away the set and it had grown dusty with neglect, first out of lack of time and later out of grief that descended upon Obi-Wan’s heart any time he so much as glanced at it. 

Now, the tea set would finally get the care it deserved. He picked up a thin green scoop made of carved wood and used it to scoop two heaping spoonfuls of tea powder from the painted canister into the warmed bowl. Anakin studied his movements, his questions fading away at the sight of the bright purple powder. Even before adding water, the powder gave off a strong scent. It was like taking the final step into the Room of a Thousand Fountains, when the foliage and life that teemed inside were allowed to envelop him from all sides. The powder had a bite to it, a twist of spice that spoke of many days drying out in the light of Rishi’s sun. But also a deep earthiness underneath it all, a humble scent he could only describe as _home._ Obi-Wan reached out to ladle hot water into the bowl to distract himself from the way his throat dried up and his heart ached to see his old Master sitting across from him on the mat, eyes closed and breathing slowly as he waited for Obi-Wan to prepare their tea. His hand paused over the handle and remembered Anakin beside him, waiting patiently.

“Why don’t you add the water?” Obi-Wan suggested, withdrawing his hand. Anakin practically jumped to grab the ladle, scooping some and carefully hovering it over the bowl.

“How much?”

“Pour slowly,” Obi-Wan answered. “I’ll tell you when.”

“How do you know though?” He questioned as he poured the water slowly. Steam rose from the bowl as it started to fill. Obi-Wan held out a hand to stop him once a tiny amount remained in the ladle.

“You just feel it,” Obi-Wan replied, the words spilling out of him even though they weren’t technically his. He had voiced the same question to Qui-Gon when he learned the tea ceremony and Qui-Gon had just laughed softly, telling him to listen to the living Force, to feel the rhythm in the pouring of the water. It had seemed silly then, but now, even after years away, he truly did _feel_ when it was right.

Anakin propped the ladle up on the hot water pot like he had found it and Obi-Wan felt pride start to well up in his chest. Anakin was paying close attention to every detail. Their bond was pulled tight, but it was a pleasant feeling. They were grounded in each other’s presence, immersed in the moment of sharing oneself with another.

Obi-Wan began to whisk the purple tea powder into the steaming water. It was all in the wrist, he remembered fondly as it bubbled and frothed. He meant to swipe away the foam but stopped.

“Would you like to try?” He held out the whisk to Anakin, who took it with tentative fingers. The young boy started to swirl the whisk slowly, eyes flitting between the bowl and Obi-Wan’s face.

“Is this right?”

“Faster is better,” Obi-Wan corrected, mimicking his movements in the air. “If you get it to foam up, you’ve done it right.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin replied. He turned his focus to the bowl and tried again. When foam started to form on the edges of the tea, he turned back to Obi-Wan with a bright smile. “Is this good?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Perfect, now—“ he paused to set the whisk aside—“I’m skipping some of the steps for the sake of simplicity. We can work on the technique later. For now, let’s enjoy the tea.”

He turned to face Anakin, placing the bowl between them and spinning it clockwise, twice. He waited for Anakin to turn as well. 

“Now, traditionally we should bow to each other.” He placed his hands on the ground and lowered his head, Anakin following suit. “We respect those who prepare the tea for us, and those who honor us by sharing tea together.”

Anakin smiled, his eyes soft with something Obi-Wan wasn’t familiar with seeing in the boy’s gaze. “May I taste it now?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, holding his breath as Anakin picked up the shallow bowl and took a small sip. Anakin’s eyes squinted as he tasted the tea, his lips puckered up slightly. No doubt it was a strong taste, something to become accustomed to. But Anakin set down the bowl gently and hummed, nodding his head.

“It’s good!”

Obi-Wan was surprised. Anakin had taken sips of his other teas before and been unimpressed. He felt at their bond to see if Anakin was just lying to make him feel better, but could find no hint of dishonesty between them. He let out a relieved sigh and spun the bowl before picking it up himself, wiping the rim with his finger before taking a drink. They sat together, enjoying the quiet bubbling sound of the hot water in the pot beside them. The sun had set further behind the skyscrapers surrounding the Temple, the last remaining rays of light painting their room with a deep orange glow. 

“We had a drink like this back on Tatooine.” Anakin spoke softly, as if he was afraid to ruin the peace that blanketed them. Obi-Wan looked away from the window to meet his gaze, but Anakin’s eyes were unfocused. “This one tastes more like leaves,” he continued, setting down the bowl after taking a sip. “But—“ he stopped, coming back to himself and looking into Obi-Wan’s eyes finally—“it tastes like _home._ ”

He understood then, the look Anakin had given him moments ago. It was trust. Their training bond hummed with a warmth not unlike the feeling of drinking hot tea. It seeped into his bones and Obi-Wan welcomed the way it allowed him to meld with the Force around them. He watched Anakin close his eyes, felt the boy reach out into the bond between them, and let his own eyes fall shut. He guided Anakin into the meditation then, wrapped in the feeling of harmony they shared. He tethered them to that feeling, kept them anchored against the storm of sensations brought on by Anakin opening himself up to the Force fully. Slowly, the maelstrom in Anakin’s mind began to settle, comforted by the rhythm of their synced breaths. Obi-Wan let the Force flow through him, and felt as Anakin steadied himself in their bond and did the same. It was like a deep exhale, Anakin’s fears crashing ashore and then getting pulled away from him in an instant, leaving behind peace instead of emptiness.

_Thank you, Master._ Anakin didn’t speak the words aloud but the gratitude rang true in their bond and Obi-Wan responded in kind. It was only in his meditation here, in creating new memories with his Padawan, that he was able to let go of the sadness that lingered in the back of his mind. He would never get more time with Qui-Gon, but he could make the most of every moment he had with Anakin.


	2. Rishi, 26 BBY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came from a place deep inside my soul that I don't often acknowledge.

Anakin paced back and forth in a small clearing surrounded by tall palm trees, feet treading a path into the reddish brown dirt. His right hand clenched around the hilt of his lightsaber, his arm tensed and ready to raise the ‘saber into a deflective position. Ten meters in front of him, at the edge of the treeline, hovered a small silver orb—a training droid. It let out a faint whirring sound as it floated up and down, side-to-side, taunting him. Anakin had set it to the highest difficulty before powering it on, so the droid was most likely waiting for him to lose focus before launching its next assault. Anything to distract him from his own thoughts, the way they bounced around his head like a thousand starfighter safety pods deployed simultaneously. 

Behind him, a cacophony of calls and chirps rose from the treetops. Everything on Rishi was alive, teeming with energy in the Force. And loud. So loud it was giving him a headache. He looked up to the right, glaring at the palm branches and hoping the stupid creatures would get the message to shut up. The training droid must have recognized his distraction. It shot a burst of three bolts at him, and Anakin had to twist his shoulder back, pulling his body weight to the side just in time to avoid getting three welts on the chest. The bolts whizzed past, making contact with a tree trunk and fizzling out harmlessly. It might have been the hardest setting, but the bolts weren’t meant to do more damage than getting hit at close range with a stunner. 

Getting hit by one still hurt though. Like that time he stuck his hand into a broken astromech droid to remove the memory core and accidentally completed the circuit by touching the power coupling with his finger. He winced, bringing the blade up to block his torso. 

“Not this time, you piece of scrap.”

A bolt came straight for his head, which he deflected easily. Another came for his right arm and he swung his lightsaber down, catching the bolt and directing it into the dirt in front of him. Anakin swung his saber at his side, twirling the blue blade in a circle in preparation for the next attack. Instead of a quick burst of blasterfire, the droid sent bolts in every direction, only milliseconds apart. Anakin tried to let himself sink into the Force and sense the pattern, allowing the Force to guide him to safety. But as he reached out, the living Force reached back with such strength that it sent a wave of pain straight into his skull and Anakin was forced to withdraw into himself.

He managed to block the first two bolts, but the third grazed his left foot and he hissed out a sharp curse. A fourth bolt was already on its way, aimed at his collarbone. Anakin turned sideways, making himself a narrow target and parried the shot back toward the droid. It was off by centimeters, he guessed. That pissed him off. 

The droid didn’t care. Its blasterfire increased, pelting the ground around him and shooting through the air indiscriminately. He danced past each bolt, getting closer and closer to the training droid. He felt his brow furrow and his teeth bite into his bottom lip as he started to lose himself in concentration. Another bolt nicked his right arm and he jumped away. A brown creature dangling from its tail in the trees screeched loudly, again and again and Anakin was going to _destroy everything it held dear if it didn’t shut up_. He deflected another bolt back at the droid. Missed again. Why couldn’t he get it right? A shot at his face was blocked, sent sizzling off into the broad-leafed plants growing beneath the palm trees. 

Anakin was getting sloppy. He didn’t care anymore. It seemed like more animals were joining the screeching one and he hated all of them.

“Would you shut up?” He yelled, bringing his left hand up to clutch his forehead. A blaster bolt hit the ground beside him, sending up a tiny cloud of red dust and reminding him of the training droid. “Alright, I quit. Power down,” he muttered, waving a hand at it. He turned around, his mouth open to complain at the animals in the trees again when a shot hit him in the shoulder blade. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat, his legs frozen in place for a fleeting moment before frustration enveloped him completely.

He reached out a hand. Felt the floating droid there, unaware of his command to turn itself off. Then he clenched his hand into a fist and the droid disintegrated with a satisfying crunch. It did little to quell the anger that bubbled up from within Anakin’s core and he knew he shouldn’t have done it, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. His emotions burned to have an outlet, a way of manifesting outside himself.

Anakin took a deep breath. The treetops had gone quiet and he looked around, confused at the sudden change until the soft rustling of leaves and crunch of pebbles underfoot announced the arrival of his Master into the clearing. Obi-Wan took one look at the crumpled metal remains of the training droid and sighed. His lips pulled into a slight frown and Anakin felt the anger in his stomach twist in a sharp guilt. It wasn’t the Jedi way to give into one’s emotions, Anakin knew. He also knew it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s way to be destructive. He could feel the concern and underlying disappointment in their training bond and Anakin’s eyes dropped to look at the dusty ground, avoiding Obi-Wan’s gaze. He didn’t want to talk about it.

Obi-Wan stepped over to the droid, picking up the pieces and then making his way over to where Anakin stood. Obi-Wan clearly wanted to talk about it, no matter what Anakin felt. And that wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. And Anakin didn’t owe Obi-Wan an explanation, even if he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep the innate urge to _rant_ from making him say something he would regret.

Obi-Wan had been gone all day, discussing diplomacy with the native species of Rishi, the avian Rishii. The Rishii were non-confrontational, a peaceful society that preferred to live off the land of their home planet. They had previously shown no interest in communicating with the Republic. But lately, more and more pirates had been flocking to the planet. Human settlements were creeping up into the highlands the Rishii called home. Although humans had been living on Rishi for centuries, they were no longer attempting cohabitation with the Rishii people. 

The Jedi Council had sent Obi-Wan and Anakin to mediate talks between the two parties, in hopes of establishing good rapport with the humans and Rishii. “And to prevent any altercations,” Mace Windu had added when they’d been briefed on Coruscant.

From then on, Anakin had anticipated violence. His skin itched with nervous energy and could barely look a human or Rishii in the eye without instinctively reaching out in the Force to test their honesty. It left him jumpy and disinterested in the political negotiations—well, more disinterested than normal. These sort of missions were never his favorite. 

To make things worse, the Rishii had asked if Anakin would stay behind at their settlement. They hadn’t told him a reason to his face, but after Obi-Wan and their leader, Talmasan of Nest Kelfri, had talked things over “out of earshot”, Obi-Wan had returned and told Anakin to honor their request. Anakin held onto his frustration at the Rishii after hearing why they’d left him behind. The Rishii didn’t allow children to take part in their decision-making, Rishii or human. To have Anakin attend the negotiations, it would be incredibly disrespectful to the other clans—or nests, as the Rishii called them. 

Obi-Wan just wasn’t brave enough to call them out for the load of poodoo they were spewing. So he’d been stuck in a primitive village for the last six hours, patrolling the perimeter, snacking on a stick of dried meat the village hunters had given him, and setting up a training droid to blow his brains out for him. 

  
  


“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started off cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

Anakin didn’t answer. He turned off his lightsaber and returned it to his belt, his eyes still glued to the ground in front of him.

“Anakin, don’t ignore me. I’m assuming you didn’t pulverise this innocent droid for no reason.”

“That thing shot me in the back after I told it to power down,” Anakin griped, crossing his arms in front of his chest tightly. “It got what was coming to it.” The air was rippling with vestiges of his anger. No doubt Obi-Wan could feel it. The humidity of the jungle was starting to get oppressive as well. Anakin’s Jedi robes were clinging to his legs and back, damp in all the wrong places and smelling of dirt. On top of the headache and Obi-Wan’s disapproving frown directed right at him, Anakin was supremely uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan seemed to think twice before asking any more questions about the droid. He propped the crushed metal up under his arm and rested his free hand on Anakin’s shoulder, despite the closed-off demeanor Anakin was exuding from every pore. “It’s been a long day, my young Padawan. What do you say we head back to camp?”

 _My young Padawan._ The moniker made half of him want to bristle, just reminding him of how he wasn’t _worthy_ to sit with the rest of the adults for the negotiations that were supposed to be part of his mission. The other half just wanted to pull Obi-Wan into a hug and whine about being uncomfortable until Obi-Wan fretted over him and fixed all of his problems. No part of him wanted to trek back up the highland trail through the jungle—all the while getting accosted by insects and thorn-laden vines—until they reached the village where Talmasan had provided lodging for them.

Anakin puffed out his lower lip and sighed, nodding his head once and resigning himself to walking behind Obi-Wan as they left the clearing. Until they reached the village, Anakin told himself he wasn’t going to think about any of the things that were bothering him. One foot in front of the other, swatting away bugs every three steps. Everything would be fine.

  
  


The rain started when they were still two klicks from the village. Anakin could hear it pouring on the leaves that formed the canopy above the trail, the occasional droplet making its way through to dampen his forearm or the tip of his nose. As they climbed higher into the mountains, the jungle started to thin and so did their cover. It had been so hot that day, Anakin had left his outer cloak behind. Now, that was looking to be a mistake. For a few minutes, he relished the raindrops as they rinsed the dirt from his face and hair, but the joy soon faded into misery as his clothes became drenched. Water clung to his eyelashes and his boots were refusing to grip trail now that it had turned to mud. 

Obi-Wan seemed unfazed, picking his way between trees and over exposed roots that split the path into a zig-zag up the mountainside. Every so often, he would glance back at Anakin, as if to check that he was still there. Anakin didn’t acknowledge him, only because he wanted to spare his Master from listening to the torrent of complaints he was keeping locked behind closed lips. Everything about this mission was awful, he had decided.

His master even stopped once to admire a brightly colored frog that was latched onto the underside of a tree branch. He bent down to inspect it closely with one hand shielding his eyes from the constant downpour. Anakin stood beside him, rolling his eyes when Obi-Wan looked at him, but watching the frog closely when his master wasn’t looking. The soft smile on Obi-Wan’s face as he continued on the trail made Anakin scoff to himself. _Stupid Obi-Wan, having the time of his life out here in the pouring rain._ But even when he was shaking his head at how anyone could enjoy being soaking wet and kilometers from shelter, his own lips twitched into a small smile.

The lookout tower at the edge of the village came into view, but the sight of it brought little happiness to Anakin. It was much too late for him. Every inch of his skin was soaked, so much so that his fingers were wrinkling up. Inside his boots, little puddles of water were forming underneath his toes each time he stepped. As they passed the tower and the guards perched inside, they both waved. The Rishii watched them with keen eyes, but nodded in acknowledgement and allowed them to continue into the main nesting area.

The village of Kelfri was small, with winding paths that eventually connected at the center where their leader, Talmasan, nested in a giant tree. All of the dwellings here were in the trees, since the Rishii were capable of flight and preferred to avoid jungle predators on the ground. Unfortunately for Anakin and Obi-Wan, that meant the Rishii didn’t have accommodations suitable for human visitors. Talmasan had done his best to provide them with a safe place underneath a strong tree, and more than enough food and water, but left the shelter itself to the Jedi. When they’d first arrived, Anakin had helped Obi-Wan set up a small tent. It had enough space for each of them to have a corner to themselves at night, and a space in the center for preparing meals and storing their other belongings. 

Anakin sighed in relief when they finally made it back to the tent and it hadn’t blown away or been flooded by the rains that continued to pour down around them. All of the Rishii had flown up to their own nests to escape the storm. The nests were spherical, with small circular openings on one side and all the walls made of woven reeds and plastered with reddish brown mud. He looked up above him and saw many of the nests had orange glows coming from their front entries. No doubt it was warm and dry inside. Anakin was jealous. Their tent looked cold and wet. 

He unzipped the front and maneuvered himself inside, kicking off his boots before he could track mud into the one clean and dry space they had. Obi-Wan followed suit and zipped up the entry behind them, then closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“That could have been worse,” Obi-Wan said, brushing wet hair from in front of his eyes. “Although not by much.”

“I don’t know, Master,” Anakin retorted. “You seemed to be having a great time out there.”

Obi-Wan started stripping off his wet robes, hanging them from a line that spanned from one end of the tent to the other. “Well, it’s not every day you see an azure Rishi dart frog in its native habitat.”

Anakin paused, peering around his own undertunic on the line to give Obi-Wan a dramatic eye-roll. He felt the urge to mock Obi-Wan’s tone start to bubble up within him, but his master didn’t even notice Anakin’s attitude. Usually, the eye-roll got him an equally dramatic sigh in return. Obi-Wan just continued to undress and pull on a fresh pair of pants, so Anakin gave up and returned to his own wet clothes.

“It was pretty cool,” he muttered after a minute.

  
  


Anakin sat in front of a battery-powered burner, watching their kettle of water intently. Obi-Wan was behind him, rummaging through their supplies to put together a meal for them to share. A soft gasp caught Anakin’s attention and he turned around to see Obi-Wan holding a silver packet. Obi-Wan stared at it intently, shaking the contents and listening. Before Anakin could ask what he was doing, Obi-Wan opened the packet and sniffed. His eyes lit up in surprise and he handed Anakin the packet.

“It’s tea,” Obi-Wan explained.

“Well we _have_ to try it,” Anakin mocked, setting the packet down in front of him. “It’s only polite.”

Obi-Wan grabbed the rest of the food and seated himself across from Anakin. “Why don’t I prepare some while you cut some of this up?” He gestured toward the ripe fruit and cured meats he’d piled onto two plates. There was even a handful of brown insects in a bowl on the side, and they looked suspiciously like something he’d seen hopping around outside a couple hours ago.

“Okay,” he acquiesced, using the Force to pull two shallow wooden bowls from the basket Talmasan had given them, setting them down gently in front of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered up from inspecting the hot water to watch Anakin use the Force frivolously. His lips pulled into something not quite a frown and Anakin met his gaze, daring him to patronize him. Obi-Wan said nothing. It was strange. Usually Obi-Wan was on his case constantly. Now, all he felt was apprehension hovering in the bond between them, as if Obi-Wan was waiting for something.

Or maybe, Anakin was just on edge.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” Obi-Wan ventured after a minute or two of silence preparation. Anakin was busy scooping tiny black seeds from the center of a pink piece of fruit, and tried to deflect the question.

“Why don’t you tell me what took so long with the Rishii?” Anakin winced inwardly at the bitter tone that crept into his voice when talking about the mission.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, studying Anakin’s every move even as his hands moved to pour steaming water from the kettle into both of the wooden bowls. His look seemed to say, _Really, Anakin?_ Nevertheless, he began to recount the day’s discussions and soon Anakin’s mind was pouring over the details, neglecting the half-sliced meat on the plate in favor of listening to Obi-Wan explain the intricacies of interacting with the human leaders of Rishi as he prepared the tea.

Obi-Wan warmed the bowls with water first, using a clean rag from his pack to wipe them clean. While he was tapping the dried leaves into one of the bowls, Anakin took the opportunity to give his perspective on the invasion of the human settlements into Rishii territory. 

In his opinion, the newly arrived pirates could kriff off, and he’d have no problem enforcing their removal. But the humans who had settled here hundreds of years ago had learned to live off the land and didn’t pose a threat to the Rishii in terms of resources. 

Anakin munched on a slice of fruit, gesturing with one hand as he spoke. “Master, they might be able to live in harmony with the Rishii if they tried. Rishii live in the trees. The humans could colonize the ground and scare off the predators, keeping the Rishii safer. The Rishii would have people to trade with too. They have so many medicinal plants—“ he paused, pointing at the top of the tent with one finger—“and their power sources are completely self-sustainable. It sure beats living down in the swamps with pirates.”

Obi-Wan nodded. He was letting the tea steep, so he had his hands clasped in his lap and legs crossed in front of him. He also had a wistful smile on his face now, which didn’t make sense.

“What?” Anakin asked, holding one of the plates out to Obi-Wan. “Here, eat some or I’m going to take all of it on accident like that time we had dinner with Master Billaba.”

“I just—“ Obi-Wan took a few pieces of food, but placed them to the side on his plate—“I wish you had been with me today.”

“Me too,” Anakin muttered, popping a fried insect into his mouth. He chewed on it grouchily, looking away from Obi-Wan to stare at the corner of their tent. 

It was still storming outside. He could see the silhouettes of the tiny raindrops that covered their polyweave tent, slowly creeping down the sides to join the rest and form puddles around their makeshift home. Inside the warm safety of the tent, sitting in front of the man he trusted as both a caretaker and a friend, he felt the walls he’d built up during the day start to crumble.

“They have no right to force me to stay behind,” Anakin insisted. “The Council sent us as a team. If they truly just needed you, I could have stayed behind at the Temple and done an independent study or something.”

“I am not sure the Council was aware this sort of complication would happen, considering the Rishii did not express concerns when told of our assignment to aid them.”

“Well they should have said something,” Anakin continued. “This whole thing is a waste of my time!” His cheeks started to heat, both in embarrassment at being left behind all day like he was a useless child, and anger at how helpless he had been to change any part of the situation. His jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed up in response to the growing anxiety in his stomach. It had not arisen here on Rishi; only been dormant since they’d packed their things on Coruscant. Just thinking about it made his heart beat faster with a mixture of panic and outrage. 

The pot of water began to hiss and boil, as if by Anakin’s command. Obi-Wan glanced over at it, seemingly surprised by his outburst. He furrowed his brow and responded to Anakin with suspicion.

“Is there something else that requires your attention more than missions from the Council?”

Anakin _really_ didn’t want to talk about this. He hadn’t meant to hear what he’d heard. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Certainly, it wasn’t supposed to keep him up at night or push him to train in the Padawan dojo for hours and hours past the assigned amount. “No, there isn’t,” he lied.

It wasn’t convincing enough. Obi-Wan was on to him—had been onto him since he’d walked into the clearing and found Anakin’s control slipping.

“Clearly, you’re not feeling this way because you don’t care about the mission. Your opinions regarding the problems here on Rishi are proof enough that you’ve given it a lot of thought and care about the outcome.” Anakin sat there in silence, knowing Obi-Wan hadn’t given up, but only taken a moment to choose his next words carefully. His master swirled the contents of the bowl in front of him, and apparently satisfied with the tea, returned his gaze to Anakin’s. “I sense a deep dread in you,” he admitted. 

To the average person, Obi-Wan’s face probably looked placid and controlled, but Anakin liked to think that he knew Obi-Wan better than anyone. And in his master’s face, he could see worry painted in the subtle crease between his master’s brows. Obi-Wan’s blue eyes glinted as if he was puzzling over a philosophical question that had no true answer, but maybe if he thought hard enough about it, he’d be the one to finally figure it out. Anakin supposed he should give up before he got the full brunt of Obi-Wan’s interrogation, but anxiety squirmed in his stomach like a pile of worms and suddenly the fruit wasn’t looking so appetizing anymore.

Anakin looked away and he could feel Obi-Wan’s disappointment in the Force around them for only a second before it disappeared. In its place, he felt a wave of reassurance pass from Obi-Wan’s side of the bond to him, filling his lungs and loosening the tightness that seemed to wrap his throat and steal his words.

Their supplies lacked any way to strain the tea, so Obi-Wan simply pressed a plate over one bowl, leaving only a sliver uncovered. He slowly poured the tea into the other bowl, leaving the damp leaves behind. The result was one bowl of faintly green tea, pushed toward Anakin by Obi-Wan’s steady hands. Obi-Wan twisted the bowl clockwise twice before leaning back and giving Anakin a small nod. They didn’t have any of the normal tools, nor the special tea powder in its reflective canister, but somehow Obi-Wan had managed to perform the ceremony and present him with a bowl of tea. 

Anakin looked right at his master then, saw the soft smile and acceptance in Obi-Wan’s gaze even though Anakin had been dismissive to him all day, and felt embarrassed at how his eyes started to burn. He placed his hands on the wooden bowl, picking it up carefully and bringing it up to his lips to take a small sip. Anything to distract him from the _stupid tears_ threatening to fall on his cheeks. _No, they will not fall. I will not cry in front of Obi-Wan._

The tea was mellow in comparison to the purple kind they usually used for this. It still had the floral notes at the beginning, but none of the earthiness. As he swallowed, the tea left behind an aftertaste of sweetness that surprised him. Anakin blinked a few times, feeling his eyelashes stick in his unshed tears, and let out a pitiful laugh that morphed into a sob he quickly strangled.

“Anakin?” He heard Obi-Wan say his name, but it was taking all of his focus not to cry so he couldn’t answer. He looked down into the tea bowl in his lap and bit his lip so fiercely it was a wonder he wasn’t breaking the skin. Obi-Wan was at his side in a second, kneeling beside him with a hand hovering over his shoulder as if touching Anakin might make things worse.

It might very well make things _way_ worse. Anakin thought if Obi-Wan attempted to give him a hug right now he might break into a million pieces like the training droid he’d destroyed a few hours ago. 

“Anakin, please tell me what’s wrong,” Obi-Wan pleaded.

“I heard you, when you holocommed the Council after our mission on Kavaal,” Anakin croaked, still staring down at the tea. “When they were saying I’m not in control of my emotions like I should be, that I put you in danger.”

“Oh.” The word left Obi-Wan’s mouth like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. “That wasn’t your fault, no matter what the Council had to say about it.”

“But it was!” Anakin yelled. He’d heard Obi-Wan’s thoughts on the situation from eavesdropping. He knew his master didn’t blame him for the blaster burns that had marred his back and ribs. They’d been shot at as they patrolled the streets of the capital city looking for a group of smugglers. “I was distracted and angry and I completely missed the guy that snuck up behind us. And you were just trying to calm me down, so you didn’t notice him either,” Anakin trailed off. 

His fingers were turning white from how tightly he gripped the tea bowl, forgetting its contents in favor of staring at the reflection of light on its surface to keep him from losing his words completely.

“I’m sorry, master,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you were hurt because I wasn’t good enough.”

“No, Anakin. You can’t expect things to go perfectly every time.” Obi-Wan refused his apology. “We all make mistakes. All we can do is learn from them and do better next time,” he said, his voice soft. He was trying to thread their bond with sympathy and compassion and Anakin was going to be sick from it.

He turned to Obi-Wan and the words just fell out. “The Chosen One can’t make mistakes, okay?” He shouted it at him, letting someone else become aware of the silent weight of it, if only for a moment. “If I have a bad day, ‘The Chosen One is too volatile. He’s dangerous.’” Anakin mocked his teacher’s voice, full of bitterness he’d stifled when watching her say that to a fellow Knight. 

“If disregarding orders because following them means leaving you to fend for yourself outnumbered and risking your life, of course I am going to ignore my orders. I won’t let my master die,” he continued, his cheeks red with the frustration that made his blood simmer in his veins. “But then I’m too attached. ‘If The Chosen One has attachments, how will he be able to fulfill his destiny?’” He was imitating Master Windu now, even though his voice was trembling.

“The prophecies were never supposed to dictate your life,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. His aura in the Force was clouded with sadness now, and Anakin thought maybe Obi-Wan was finally understanding.

Anakin set down the bowl of unfinished tea and looked up at the top of the tent, blinking back the tears again and failing. “I can’t even protect my own master. How am I supposed to live up to some stupid prophecy?” The first tear streaked a trail down his left cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut in shame. 

He felt a tug on his shoulder and then he was pulled into an embrace. Obi-Wan was hugging him, he realized. It surprised him, a sob catching in his throat from the sudden pressure of arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Obi-Wan’s side of their training bond ached with a feeling Anakin could only describe as helplessness. His master wasn’t sure how to make it better, and had resorted to a method of comfort he used rarely, but that he knew Anakin craved more than anything. 

And Force, did it break his soul open to be held. Anakin let go of any last threads of pride that told him to resist, to reject Obi-Wan’s help and comfort. His hands wrapped around Obi-Wan, fingers gripping into the fabric of his shirt and holding on for dear life. He pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s collarbone and released the hurt, the frustration, the fear that he’d kept locked inside for months. It flooded out of him, his body wracked with sobs that had him gasping for air. He was unable to stop it as his mind ran through all of the painful moments. 

Images of training alone in the Padawan dojo in the middle of the night, resetting the sparring droid for the seventeenth time so he could defeat again, using Juyo this time. _Maybe if I’m good enough, they won’t be so hard on me when I lose my temper._ Passing classmates in the hallway, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact even though he knows they are staring. Knowing they are judging him for losing his cool in a debate with Padawan Olin in class that day. _No one understands me. They don’t have emotions. They think they’re so above it all._ Sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, just around the corner from where Obi-Wan stood at a holoprojector in the main room of his and Obi-Wan’s shared quarters. Hiding in the shadows and wilting in shame as he hears the Council dismiss Obi-Wan’s words so they can impart their judgement, their disappointment at Anakin’s recklessness. _They don't want me here. I’ll never be enough. I’ll always be alone._

Obi-Wan rested his cheek on the top of Anakin’s head and spoke softly, “It’s alright now, Anakin. You’re not alone.”

A tendril of anger wound its way up from somewhere deep inside him. It wove through his rib cage and pulled tight on his lungs. It suffocated him and told him that Obi-Wan was lying, that Obi-Wan thought he was a failure. It loosened his grip on Obi-Wan’s shirt and he started to let his hands fall away. He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the blurry browns of Obi-Wan’s tear-stained tunic while he took tiny sips of air to control his breathing. If he could only stop crying, stop being so weak. 

Obi-Wan must have felt it in their bond, the self-loathing and fear of rejection that Anakin was failing to smother, because he started to rub a hand up and down Anakin’s back and sent his own feelings into the Force. 

Waking up in the Halls of Healing, feeling the phantom pain of burns healed while he’d been unconscious. Being overcome with a sense of relief, a sense of rightness when he blinked the sleep from his eyes to see his Padawan asleep in a chair beside his bed, legs propped up over the side and neck bent at an absurd angle in an attempt to get comfortable. _He never left my side. What did I do to deserve him?_ Watching Anakin in the Temple gardens, coaxing a feathered creature to fly onto his shoulder by connecting to it through the Force. Admiring Anakin’s agility and bravery as he made his way through an obstacle course in the lightsaber training salles, deflecting bolts and leaping from platforms as if it took less effort than taking a breath. _He is already so strong in the Force. I am proud of him._ Pouring hot water into a plain wooden bowl, struggling to keep his concern to himself even though he can see the pain in his Padawan’s eyes. Pushing a bowl of tea into the space between them, hoping it can say what he has never shared aloud. _I love you, Anakin. Please let me help._

“You are good enough, Anakin, just as you are,” Obi-Wan said, his arms tightening around him. “Nothing can change that, prophecies be damned.”

Obi-Wan’s words washed the anger away, pulled the vines of doubt and fear from inside him and burnt them to ash. It drew a sigh from Anakin’s lips and his spine bent as the tension drained out of him.

Anakin pulled back from the hug slowly, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. His eyelids were puffy and his whole face felt hot. But for the first time in a long time, he felt okay. Obi-Wan cared about him, was proud of him even when he made mistakes, remained happy to see him even after everything Anakin had done. He had to admit that he felt a little stupid. Somehow, he’d forgotten those things.

“I’m sorry for crying on you, Master.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, giving Anakin a sad smile and rubbing a hand up and down Anakin’s arm.

“You just changed into that shirt and now I ruined it.” Anakin laughed, a soft and muddled sound punctuated with a sniffle.

“How awful of you,” Obi-Wan teased, but made no move to get up. “I’m more upset that we’ve let the tea get cold.”

Anakin froze, glancing down at the full bowl of tea beside him, no longer steaming. Obi-Wan had made it for him and he’d left it there, forgotten as he’d lost his composure. Now he felt guilty.

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan said quickly, drawing Anakin’s attention back to him. “It was a joke. It’s fine, the tea isn’t important.”

“I disagree,” Anakin retorted, letting out a breathy laugh to settle himself. Then, he picked up the bowl with drained tea leaves and scooped them out. He began to rinse the bowl, dumping the water into a wide-mouthed container beside the pot of hot water. Anakin grabbed the cloth Obi-Wan had used to wipe the bowl clean, a simplistic substitute for the red silk one they used at the Temple. He swiped away the last drops of water with practiced ease and started to measure out a new serving of the tea leaves. He turned to Obi-Wan and gave him a smile, letting the uncomplicated affection flow between them. “This time, I’ll make some for you, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this one to anyone who has ever felt like they weren't good enough. You're not alone, and you're still worthy of love even if you make mistakes.


	3. Resolute, Separatist Space, 21 BBY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a traumatic experience with Geonosian mind-control worms, Ahsoka can’t sleep. She seeks the comfort of her master and discovers a new way to find peace in wartime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’ve been imagining this scene since this AU came into existence, courtesy of Ms_Gallows here on ao3. They’re both an artist and an author!  
> Check out the art that started it all or this one of Obi-Wan enjoying a cup of tea!
> 
> I’ve never written anything from Ahsoka’s perspective before, but it turned out to be so fun and different from what I’m used to. I hope you enjoy my take on her character, as well as her journey to meditative tea-making. We won’t see much of her doing the ceremony herself, but that’s a treat for the next chapter.
> 
> Dive right into this Clone Wars era chapter and I’ll see you at the end!

Ahsoka tried and failed to keep her eyes shut, again. She counted soundlessly, mouthing numbers as she attempted to steady her breathing, to let her body relax into the Republic cruiser-standard mattress beneath her. She only got to six before visions of Barriss Offee’s cold limp body appeared in her mind. She felt a chill run up her spine and the subsequent goosebumps that followed. _Stay focused. Don’t let fear consume you._ She drew in another deep breath and refused to open her eyes. _Ten. Eleven. Twelve._ Barriss again, but this time she was contorted by the control of a Geonosian worm, her limbs bending at strange angles and her eyes rolled back in her head. Ahsoka’s throat started to close up, a strange sense of panic seizing her insides and making her gasp for air.

Ahsoka’s eyes flew open. 

She had lost. For the third night cycle in a row. Sleep had evaded her ever since she had delivered that TB-73 frigate to the medical station near Ord Cestus and regrouped with her master. If it wasn’t visions of Barriss dying, it was of clones dying. Barriss trying to kill Ahsoka, or clones trying to kill both of them. Ahsoka couldn’t _rest_ and it was beginning to affect her focus during the day.

Ahsoka, Anakin, and Obi-Wan were currently aboard the _Resolute,_ en route to Dantooine to aid Master Windu after a quick rendezvous to combine the forces of the 212th battalion and the 501st. The entire day had been filled with briefings and war meetings. 

To top it all off, Admiral Yularen had decided today was time to start training with new rappelling hooks, meant to be better at anchoring into ice cliffs. _That doesn’t bode well for the location of our next mission_ , she’d thought to herself upon attaching the rappelling gear to her waist. Nevertheless, she’d strained her mind and connection to the Force in order to keep focused during all of her duties as a Padawan. 

Yesterday, she’d still had the foolish notion that she could keep this a secret from Anakin and Master Kenobi. Now, sitting up with her hands gripping the thin bed sheet into a wrinkled mess and her limbs filled with an eerie chill, Ahsoka admitted that she couldn’t deal with this on her own. She slid out of bed, wincing slightly when her bare feet touched the cool metal floor. Usually the utilitarian chambers didn’t bother her, but a sleep-deprived mind apparently craved softness, warmth, _comfort._

From her things, she pulled out a burgundy robe and put it on, tying the band around her waist to cinch it closed. Ahsoka didn’t bother with shoes. It was the middle of the night, probably close to the ship time’s official morning hours if she had to guess, and she doubted there would be many personnel walking the hallways of the crew quarters.

Ahsoka pressed the button beside the door to open it and was greeted by the dim emergency lighting on the edges of the floor panels that kept the hallways just bright enough to see, but not nearly enough to make her flinch. She rubbed at her eyes anyway, letting out a bone-deep sigh before setting off toward Anakin’s cabin. It was late, yes, but she knew Anakin wouldn’t mind the intrusion. They’d been surprised in battle enough times that Anakin’s pre-war habit of sleeping like the dead had been whittled down to a light sleep that bordered on a meditative trance instead. She’d witnessed him waking up just by subconsciously feeling her distress, when they were in close proximity. It used to freak her out, but now, she was used to his unintentional intrusions—almost felt weird without them when they got separated.

She reached out into the Force as she approached his door, but all that she felt was an echo of Anakin’s presence. He hadn’t been there since—well, since this morning if she wasn’t mistaken. _Weird. I saw him in the mess hall at dinner, eating with Captain Rex. He should be in bed, fast asleep, dreaming of starfighters like he mumbled about when he dozed off on the transports._ A substantial portion of her brain was irritated that Anakin wasn’t where he should be. The rare time she reached out, albeit with childish desires for reassurance, was the time he was nowhere to be found.

_Where would Anakin Skywalker go if he didn’t want to spend the night asleep like a normal human?_

The question hovered in her mind for a brief second before it became obvious—painfully obvious, so obvious she could have smacked herself in the forehead if she knew it wouldn’t give her head another reason to ache. She settled for tilting her head to look at the ceiling.

“He’s in Master Kenobi’s room,” she said to the repeating pattern of metal tiles. Sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and shook her head. “Typical.”

It didn’t take her long to find Obi-Wan Kenobi’s cabin, although it was quite a ways from hers and Anakin’s. The 212th had commandeered a whole wing of the crew quarters, the best wing on the ship in fact. It was standard that the highest ranking military officers get the best cabins, and Master Kenobi was a High General, and therefore earned a room with not only a bed but also a desk and adjacent armchair for guests.

As she made her way down the deserted corridor toward his room, a faint warmth started to prickle at the back of her neck. It was familiar, and she pulled on the feeling like a thread, letting it lead her in the right direction. It mingled with the stronger sensation of brightness that emanated from Anakin’s Force signature, distinct but intertwined all the same. Ahsoka approached the door and found her lips had already curled into a soft smile. Even after all this time, Anakin still sought out his old master for company. It made her feel braver—and safer.

The door slid open with a gentle _swish_ and she stepped quietly inside, hoping she wasn’t invading their space.

“Master Kenobi?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself at the uncertainty. There was a golden light coming from beyond the narrow entryway, so she took another step forward. The door closed behind her and she jumped, moving into the main room fully. To her right, Obi-Wan sat at the aforementioned _special desk for Generals_ , a holo-display showing a map of Dantooinian terrain in front of him and a pile of datapads beside it.

“Ahsoka,” Master Kenobi whispered in return, turning away from his work to regard her with his brows furrowed. “It’s awfully late. Is everything alright?”

She wanted to open her mouth, make up an excuse or deflect the question, but she honestly couldn’t think of a single thing to tell him—not with Obi-Wan’s gentle frown and concerned eyes being directed at her.

“No,” she admitted, still holding herself together by the grip of her fingers on the sleeves of her robe, her arms tightly crossed in front of her.

Obi-Wan’s expression shifted, became more alarmed perhaps. She rarely ever saw him truly worried so she wasn’t sure. He moved to get up, but she interrupted him.

“Where’s Anakin?”

It seemed like Obi-Wan tried for a moment to hold back a chuckle, but failed. He stood and moved toward her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked to the left side of the room. On Obi-Wan’s bunk, Anakin was lying still, back propped up by a pillow but with his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. His body was covered by a blanket that didn’t quite reach down to his feet and the edges of a datapad peeked out from underneath the part covering his chest.

Anakin was fast asleep. In Master Kenobi’s bed. And Master Kenobi was just letting him rest, content to spend the whole night working if it meant Anakin got some sleep.

Ahsoka felt guilty. “I don’t want to wake him.” She turned, ready to leave. _Maybe if I just read something boring on a datapad, I can finally fall asleep too._

Obi-Wan gripped her shoulder tighter, keeping her from moving away. “He’s been out for four hours already,” he said, smirking just a little. He pointed to the desk full of datapads. “It’s his turn to designate the battalions’ attack formations anyway. I can’t do _all_ of his work for him.”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and laughed softly. The noise was enough to rouse Anakin, whose eyes fluttered open slowly to take in his surroundings. Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan turned to look at him, and his eyes widened in realization.

“Obi-Wan?” He mumbled, punctuating the name with a yawn. “How long have I been out?”

“Four hours, apparently,” Ahsoka teased. She tilted her head and smiled. “Good morning, master.”

“Snips?” Blue eyes were suddenly alert. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she said, softly and mostly to herself.

Obi-Wan interjected. “I think your Padawan has been struggling with the same thing most of us do after a particularly stressful mission.” He looked down at her, eyebrow raised in question.

“Can’t sleep?” Anakin asked, then moved to get out of the bed. To his dismay, a few of the datapads clattered to the ground in the process, making him swear and pull them back into a pile with the Force. Obi-Wan didn’t say anything, but rubbed at his mustache in what Ahsoka knew was an attempt to hide his amusement.

Ahsoka nodded, answering Anakin’s question without having to say anything herself.

“Same,” Anakin said. Then scratched his head sheepishly. “At least, until I got here.”

“It seems I have quite the talent for finding absolutely mind-numbing reports to read,” Obi-Wan said, guiding her over to the bed. She sat down without a complaint, her eyes focused on Anakin’s hands. They were clasped in front of him, although his fingers twitched as if he wanted to do something else. Ahsoka bumped his side with her elbow and met his gaze with a smile. His arm was around her shoulders in an instant, pulling her into a hug.

He smelled like sleep—and also like the floor of the ship’s hangar bay. It was exactly what she’d wanted. Ahsoka closed her eyes and let the moment take hold, not thinking of anything except the comfort of someone’s arms around her, protecting her. Being at war—being so far away from the Jedi Temple and its constant warmth, floating in the endless expanse of space—left her drained, empty of the energy that normally coursed through her. But Anakin was enveloped in that energy, as though the Force exuded from him instead of him having to draw on it from the matter around him.

 _A sun_ , the description popped into her mind suddenly. _He is like a sun._

They relaxed out of the hug after a moment. Despite the warmth of Anakin’s embrace, Ahsoka found her mind still turning over the visions of clones with raised blaster rifles, aiming to gun her down. _This has to stop_ , she thought, although it was more like a desperate plea and less like the demand of a person truly in control of their own mind. 

The tension in her shoulders clued Anakin in on her discomfort. His lips formed into a slight frown and he rubbed a hand up and down her arm like he was chasing away a winter chill.

“Would you like something _incredibly_ boring to read?” He offered a datapad with one hand, looking away from her to make eye contact with Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes. Anakin just snorted, and Ahsoka tried to smile but her heart wasn’t in it. 

“I think if I tried to read right now, my head would explode,” she sighed, resting her head in her hands. “I was struggling with the mission briefing notes this afternoon and that like twelve standard hours ago.” Her voice faltered, falling away in restrained frustration. “I’m just so—“

“Tired,” Anakin finished, nodding his head. “I know.”

“Why can’t I stop seeing her? It’s over, Barriss is fine, the worms are gone.” She pulled a hand away from her cheek and gestured toward Anakin, as if he had all of the answers. Most of the time, it seemed like he did. And if not, Obi-Wan did. They both stared at her, seemingly at a loss. _Great, I’m actually broken_. She groaned, rubbing at her eyes.

“I keep seeing the clones too. We had to kill several of them in self-defense, but what if I didn’t _have_ to?” Ahsoka’s voice is only a whisper, setting free the guilt that wriggled around her stomach like—well, a Geonosian worm. And now she hated her own brain even more, if that was even possible. 

She kept silent then, hoping one of them would have a fix, a spare stim, or even a sedative. _That’s actually a good idea. Maybe Kix can just knock me out for a few hours._

Obi-Wan sat in the singular armchair pulled next to the bunk, eyes closed in thought as he communed with the Force. Ahsoka had seen him do this a few times since joining their battalions on Christophsis. Obi-Wan was sensitive to the way the Force bound everyone together through the present and into the future. Plucking the strands of time in the right way, it could give a Jedi a hint about which path to take. Master Yoda had always cautioned Padawans not to put too much stock in premonitions, and Anakin himself had told her that looking into the future was risky. But whenever Obi-Wan reached out and asked the Force for guidance, Ahsoka noticed that it seemed to answer. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke into the silence. “I’d like you to perform the tea ceremony for me.” He opened one of his eyes to peek at Anakin, who had stiffened in surprise. Obi-Wan’s eyebrow quirked up and Ahsoka could feel the Force brimming with amusement. _Here comes a joke at Anakin’s expense_ , she mused. 

“You do remember it, don’t you?”

Ahsoka looked to her Master, expecting him to retort, using sarcasm to deflect from the fact that no, he did not remember. She’d seen this before. 

Instead, Anakin just tilted his head, giving Obi-Wan a fond smile that decorated the room with more of that sun-bright warmth. “Great idea, Master.”

He left her side, pressing a button to open one of the cabinets underneath the bunk. Ahsoka peered inside from her perch on the bed, her feet dangling just to the side of Anakin’s face as he dug through the contents. He tossed a tan woven mat behind him and it started to unroll. 

“And yes, Obi-Wan, of course I remember.” Anakin almost sounded offended as he tugged a box from the back of the cabinet and set it beside Ahsoka on the bed. _This must be—_ she paused to assess the enthusiasm of Anakin’s movements— _important to him?_ She brushed the sides of the box gently, confusion settling on her face. Jokes aside, she was unaware of a specific “tea ceremony” that the Jedi performed and was doubly unaware that Anakin of all people would know one. 

Now Obi-Wan, he seemed like the kind of man that would appreciate a tea ceremony. She’d seen him sharing a cup with Master Yoda or Master Billaba on occasion, and she also knew Obi-Wan appreciated anything that would give him a modicum of peace. Ahsoka had only spent a little over a year studying as Anakin Skywalker’s apprentice and she understood well why Obi-Wan resorted to meditation and calming brews whenever he had the chance. _You’re something else, Skyguy._

“Should have known you’d bring tea onto my ship,” Anakin teased, opening the box and pulling out a wooden container with decorated sides. “When did you even have time to pack this?”

“I had a feeling we would need it,” Obi-Wan said with a shrug, moving from his seat in the chair to kneel on the floor, spreading the mat out in the center of the room. Their movements were practiced, as if they’d done this many times. But despite this, anticipation hummed in the space between them and Ahsoka felt like she was missing something. 

“Masters,” Ahsoka spoke softly. “What exactly are we doing?”

They both turned to look at her, Obi-Wan with his hands frozen on the mat, mid-smoothing of its wrinkles, and Anakin with both hands full of various utensils and bowls. 

“Making tea,” Anakin answered, dumping the bowls on the mat and giving her a grin. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided, picking up the utensils and setting them each in a specific orientation near the center of the mat.

Anakin blinked at the mess he’d made, whispering a quick apology. When he looked up at her, he patted the mat and beckoned her over. “Come, sit over here.”

Ahsoka slid off the bed and padded over to the edge of the mat, lowering herself to sit with her feet tucked underneath her, hands placed on her thighs in a standard learner’s pose.

“Obi-Wan taught me this way of making tea to prepare our minds for meditation,” Anakin explained, sitting down beside her. He pointed a gloved finger at the matching set of metal bowls in front of them. “We drink out of bowls instead of cups like normal.”

“Why?” Ahsoka asked, picking up the sterile-looking steel bowl. “It doesn’t seem very relaxing.”

Anakin pointedly looked at Obi-Wan from across the room where he was setting up an electric-powered kettle to boil some water for them. “See, Master? I told you the clay ones make a difference.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head and pressed the switch on the kettle. It lit up with a blue light and Obi-Wan rested his weight on the desk, patiently waiting. His eyes fell shut briefly and he sighed. Ahsoka was startled by the exhaustion that painted his features. _He’s tired too._ As soon as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a soft smile that prevented her from asking—if she’d even dared. 

Ahsoka’s gaze fell on Anakin as he folded a red cloth into a triangle, then started wiping the metal bowls with it. She was distracted by the purpose in his movements. It wasn’t casual motion, like brushing away a stray crumb or piece of dust. Anakin was methodical, patterned. He held the edge of the bowl and rotated it in increments, swiping gently. After the first, he prepared another. The bowls eventually formed a row, equally spaced and with the set of utensils placed on the left. 

_It’s like he’s doing a kata._ She felt calmed by it, content to sit for a moment and think of nothing but the bubbling kettle in the corner and the feeling of the woven mat beneath her.

After a moment, curiosity got the best of her and she turned her attention to one of the tools in between her and Anakin. Her eyes landed on a narrow wooden stick, carved with intricate swirling patterns on one end—the handle, she assumed—while the other end was shaped as if to scoop something. She couldn’t imagine what it was for. The scooped side was much too small for any tea leaves she’d seen. _Strange_ , she thought. 

“What’s this for?” Ahsoka asked, pointing to the carved stick.

“We scoop the tea powder with it,” Obi-Wan explained, returning to the mat with a container of steaming water. He placed it beside the row of bowls Anakin had cleaned and took a seat beside her. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Powder?”

He handed her the wooden canister she’d seen earlier in the box. “Take a look.”

When she removed the top, a bright red powder was inside. It didn’t look like tea leaves to her, but it smelled that way. Pungent, like the forests on Felucia, covered in colorful plant-life. Underneath the first scents of greenery, there was an earthiness that surprised her. Ahsoka decided it was a humbling smell that matched their situation, all three of them seated on a plain mat with a few simple bowls, enjoying each other’s company even in the midst of traveling to another battle.

“It’s a beautiful color,” she said, admiring the container and its content. “Reminds me of those wild-looking flowers we saw on Felucia.”

Obi-Wan smiled, remembering their mission. Anakin was busy pouring some of the hot water into one of the metal bowls, but at her words, his lips turned up into a soft smile as well.

“Why don’t you tell us what you’re doing, Anakin?”

Ahsoka watched Anakin’s hands as they passed over the tools, plucking another wooden tool from in front of her.

“I have to cleanse everything before making the tea,” he began, placing a little wooden whisk into the bowl of water. “But it’s about more than that.”

He twisted the whisk, rotating it through the water methodically before picking it up. Water dripped from it with a gentle _plink_ and Ahsoka’s eyes followed the drops as they splashed back into the bowl.

“We’re also creating a clean space for our minds. Making tea like this connects me and both of you,” Anakin continued, looking up from his work to gaze at Ahsoka. His eyes had an earnest glint to them, void of any of the turmoil she often saw during the day when they were fighting or training.

Anakin dried the whisk and placed it aside, finishing his preparations by pouring the old water into a separate bowl and wiping it clean with the red cloth. His fingers deftly folded it in on itself so that no two spots were used twice. Ahsoka couldn’t follow them completely, and whether that was because her eyes were strained from being open for three days straight or because Anakin had done this enough times to make tea in his sleep, she’d never know.

“I used to have a hard time meditating when I was young,” Anakin admitted, pouring a new portion of hot water into the bowl. At the mention of Anakin’s past, Ahsoka perked up. _He never talks about his childhood. Ever._ “Everything was too loud, like if I tried to sink into the Force it would swallow me up and I’d never make it back to my body.”

Ahsoka looked to Obi-Wan, but he didn’t notice. He was staring at Anakin, a wistful smile on his face and feeling like pure contentment in the Force. Ahsoka knew they were doing this for her, showing her a way to clear her mind and focus on the present, but she also felt like she was intruding on something private. Most Jedi didn’t feel this _close_ , like a _family._

Ahsoka had friends, some her own age and some that were Knights or Masters she trusted with her life. Plo Koon called her Little Soka and met her at the Temple hangar bay each time she returned from a faraway mission. He listened to her stories and offered advice when she was caught up on one problem or another. But none of it—none could compare to the way her bond to Anakin tugged at her chest, a feeling like a physical rope knotted around her heart that always pulled her back to him, and by extension, Master Kenobi. 

It was dangerous, this sensation of being anchored to people. Ahsoka knew deep down it wasn’t sustainable to be attached to her master and grandmaster. But how else was she supposed to make it through this war and all the losses it brought with it? 

There were so few constants in her life now. But she was certain that they would give their lives to protect her, and she knew she’d do the same. 

Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the tea canister opening, of the carved wooden scoop tapping the side of the bowl as Anakin portioned out the red powder. He blended it into the hot water, his hands deftly mixing with the small whisk in his right hand. Watching him, she felt curiosity bubbling up inside her, daring her to pull even a wisp of a childhood secret from her master.

“When did you learn how to do this?” She asked, her voice soft with a mixture of wonder and caution.

Anakin just smiled, continuing to mix the tea until tiny bubbles frothed up all around the edges of the bowl. “I think I was ten?”

Obi-Wan nodded, adding, “And as troublesome as ever.”

“Hey,” Anakin paused, pointing a finger at Obi-Wan. “I was ten! Give me a break.”

“I stepped on one too many discarded droid parts to ever _give you a break_ ,” Obi-Wan teased.

“Obi-Wan taught me,” Anakin continued, smiling at the older man. Ahsoka felt a flutter of something in the Force, not in her bond with Anakin, although it echoed in it nonetheless. Ahsoka was becoming more attuned to moments like this, when Anakin was hiding something. “I thought he was crazy when he brought all of these tools out. Probably exactly what you’re thinking right now.” He was downplaying his own emotions, she could tell. She didn’t know why he was hiding something he was happy about, but she rolled with it.

“I’ve seen weirder,” Ahsoka said. “Geonosian worms, a backstabbing droid, Jar-Jar trying to figure out how to eat traditional Mon Calamari food.” She listed off each experience, her face twisting into a mock frown of disgust. “Honestly that last one haunts me.”

Anakin snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t doubt that.”

He finished mixing the tea and placed the bowl in front of her, rotating it twice before sitting back on his heels.

“We should bow to each other before you take a drink,” Anakin explained, placing his hands on the floor, palms flat on the woven mat. Ahsoka complied, dipping her head. _So formal._ When she raised her head again, Anakin was looking at her expectantly.

Ahsoka picked up the small bowl, sniffed it suspiciously, and took a small drink. The foam stuck to her top lip and red tea was a bit alarming to drink, but when the flavors settled on her tongue, she was pleasantly surprised. It was bitter, much more so than she was used to. But it tasted much like it smelled, earthy and floral. It was like taking a breath of fresh air or digging your hands into moist soil. She had to admit that it transported her to somewhere else, far away from the metallic confines of a Republic cruiser. Something inside her mind settled, the incessant buzz of worry starting to fade away from its place at the base of her skull. It wasn’t until she set the bowl down that she realized it wasn’t just the tea, but the space around her that calmed her.

Obi-Wan was looking at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“It tastes strange,” she admitted, blinking quickly. “But I like it. Thank you, master.”

Anakin nodded, his happiness bleeding out from behind the walls he’d put up and into the Force around him, like it was beyond his control. It pleased her to see him genuinely enjoying something, not just using a thin veil of smirks and jokes to cover up the constant feeling that he’d rather be somewhere else. 

“Do I share it with you guys—” she paused, holding the bowl out toward Obi-Wan— “or is that not how it goes?”

“Sometimes,” Obi-Wan answered, his eyes crinkling in the corners with amusement. “But today, this one is all yours.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “I feel weird being the only one drinking tea.”

“I’ll make more,” Anakin said, pouring more hot water into a second bowl. “I know Obi-Wan won’t pass up the opportunity for tea, no matter how polite he’s trying to be right now.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Anakin, then all three of them laughed softly.

“Tell me more about the tea ceremony,” Ahsoka said, taking another sip of her tea. “Who taught you, Master Kenobi?”

“My own master—” Obi-Wan’s voice carried in it a kind of sorrow—“Qui-Gon Jinn.”

It made sense now. The tea ceremony, the looks Anakin and Obi-Wan shared. It was a way to remember the ones that were lost, to cherish the ones still here. 

“It took me two years just to master the ratio between water and tea powder. He used to make the oddest face when he tasted my tea,” Obi-Wan continued, on the verge of indignance. He took a sip of the tea Anakin placed in front of him, drawing his face up into an exaggerated display of revulsion. “Like this.”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but giggle. Master Kenobi was usually so serious, so composed. He made jokes at the expense of Anakin’s dignity from time to time, but this was new.

“It made me so irritated back then,” Obi-Wan admitted, sipping the tea again. He looked to Anakin, who was busy grinning at him while he cleaned the utensils for one last bowl of tea. “This tastes good, Anakin. Well done.”

“My pleasure, master.” Anakin responded cheekily.

Obi-Wan and Anakin continued telling stories, some of Qui-Gon Jinn, and some of the many times they had shared tea over the years. It was more about Anakin’s past than she’d ever known, even if it was only surface-level and meant to cheer her up. Ahsoka hoarded the details, getting lost in their reminiscing until she couldn’t remember why she’d ended up in Master Kenobi’s room in the first place. All she knew was that she was safe, happy, and laughing for the first time in weeks.

Their bowls had long since been discarded. Ahsoka was curled up in the armchair, her legs hanging over one side and her head propped up on the other. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and Obi-Wan got up from his place on the mat to hand her a blanket. She took it, convinced that it wouldn’t make a difference. _When was the last time I felt relaxed enough to go to sleep? Like a blanket is going to change anything._

She was wrong. Ahsoka realized it when she blinked open her eyes the tiniest bit and found the emergency lighting passing by her, the only sounds being soft footsteps of boots on metal and steady breathing above her. When she took a moment to think—although it was quite hard, everything was kind of fuzzy and she was so warm—she noticed she was being held. By Anakin. 

_I fell asleep and_ _now Anakin is carrying me._ She squeezed her eyes shut again. _Waking up now would make it weird._

The motion of his steps taking them across the troop quarters lulled her into a place somewhere between delirious wakefulness and a really vivid dream. Ahsoka heard the familiar beep of the lock to her room opening, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Anakin stepped into the dark room and set her down gently on her bunk. She let her body go limp, keeping her eyes shut and letting out a slow breath as if she was still sleeping. A blanket—her blanket—was pulled over her, chasing away the chill that threatened to steal the vestiges of warmth from being nestled up in Master Kenobi’s armchair. 

“Sleep well, Snips,” she heard Anakin whisper, his voice tinged with amusement. He placed a hand on her shoulder briefly and she held her breath, hoping he didn’t notice she was awake enough to hear him. “You’re safe now, okay?”

_Okay, master._

He left then, the door closing behind him and his Force signature fading into a glimmer as he returned to the battle formations on Obi-Wan’s desk. Ahsoka pulled the blanket up under her chin and let out a long sigh, letting the memories of warm tea and soft laughter lull her into sleep again.

***

Tea became something that kept her together. Anakin taught her the steps, showed her all of the markets that sold the best blends, and how to tell when the leaves had steeped just the right amount to keep the tea from getting bitter. There wasn’t a lot of time, with the war continuing on and on, sending her and Anakin on missions across the galaxy until they both had dark circles under their eyes and preferred caf to any other beverage because it kept them on their feet.

On leave, she found herself in Master Kenobi’s quarters with Anakin, sharing tea and meditating. Anakin mentioned her progress with lightsaber forms and Obi-Wan ends up suggesting something she wasn’t expecting, but secretly hoped for ever since she was a youngling studying saber forms from a textbook.

“I believe it’s time we started practicing something a little more challenging, young one,” Obi-Wan began. It was his turn to brew the tea this time, and he took his time pouring the steaming water from a kettle into delicate white cups. “You have heard of Jar’Kai, yes?” 

Ahsoka nodded, failing to keep her leg from bouncing in anticipation. She leaned over, watching the bundle of tea at the bottom of the cup start to expand. 

“It’s only my _favorite_ form,” she confessed, clenching her hands into fists. “It’s just so—“ she paused, trying to put into words how she’d _borrowed_ a sparring saber from the training salles and practiced wielding two blades at once in her room on more than one occasion without admitting it in that amount of detail—“cool.”

_Nice one. Eloquent._

“Incredibly cool,” Anakin cut in, nudging her with his elbow. “And Obi-Wan is going to teach you.”

She forgot about the tea completely. “Seriously?” She jumped up, the sudden movement making Obi-Wan’s eyes widen in surprise. Her wide smile fell slightly when she remembered where she was, and she slowly sat back down on the mat, a hand reaching back to touch her Padawan beads out of habit as she regained her composure. “I’d be honored, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled, passing her a teacup. “I do hope that excitement won’t fade once we start doing drills,” he teased. His blue eyes were glinting in the afternoon light, giving away his own eagerness to start their training. 

Ahsoka looked into the teacup and fell still. At the bottom, where the bundle of green leaves had once been, there was a delicate unfurling of pink petals. A flower, in her tea. It smelled like the Temple gardens, and was so, so pretty. She almost couldn’t bear to drink it.

Anakin looked at his own cup of tea and smiled. “Padm—Senator Amidala would love this.”

Ahsoka made eye contact with Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Anakin, do try to—“

“She’s my friend, Obi-Wan. And she would think this is nice,” Anakin argued, daring Obi-Wan to take it further.

Ahsoka felt a nervous giggle trying to escape, so she covered it up with a sip of her tea. It was as good as it looked.

“We’ll have to invite her over then,” Obi-Wan suggested, rising to the challenge. 

“Now that’s—“

“Oh, you wouldn’t?“

“It’s not that, it’s just—“

Obi-Wan kept his mouth shut then, but it certainly looked like it was tearing him up inside to not tease Anakin further about his obvious soft spot for the senator. He turned back to Ahsoka. 

“When shall we begin your lessons?”

“Today,” Ahsoka blurted. 

“You’re going to need another lightsaber,” Anakin pointed out. “Which means—“

“Another trip to Ilum,” she finished the thought. “I’ll grab my coat.” She set the cup of tea down and took off for the door.

“Ahsoka! Wait! You don’t need to—” Obi-Wan yelled after her. “They have practice sabers for a reason!” 

She stopped, a hand on the wall to prop her up while she jammed her feet into her boots, discarded in the entryway when she’d arrived.

“We’re supposed to be on leave,” Anakin shouted, although he wasn’t making any move to stop her. 

“Master, I know you crave adventure,” Ahsoka answered in a sing-song voice.

Obi-Wan took a sip of his own tea. “She’s not wrong there.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Anakin hissed.

Ahsoka returned to Anakin’s side, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for Anakin to finish his tea.

“I’m sorry—“ Anakin paused to give her a side-eye—“did you need something? I’m kind of busy, you know, enjoying a rare break from the galactic _war_ going on.”

“Master, come on.” She crossed her arms, tapping her foot to be annoying on purpose. Anakin fidgeted, taking a slow drink from his teacup. _It’s working, hah._ He squinted at Obi-Wan, then sighed and set his cup down. 

“We’ve created a monster,” he said.

Master Kenobi looked at Ahsoka and she felt a wave of pride in the Force, sent from him no doubt. 

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Obi-Wan, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Anakin whined, but he stood up nonetheless. 

_I wonder what color my next kyber crystal is going to be_ , she wondered, pushing her master toward the door. 

“You owe me one, Snips.”

“This is your job, Skyguy, don’t try to get out of it.”

***

Her shoto ended up looking just like her longer saber, a hilt made of shiny steel. The crystal emitted a yellow blade that felt distinctly _hers._ It felt right to have two sabers, and at her lessons with Master Kenobi, he readily admitted that she picked up Jar’Kai faster than most.

Anakin joined them for sparring sessions, borrowing Obi-Wan’s blade and wielding it alongside his own as if he’d always dual-wielded.

“You can tell Obi-Wan was your master,” Ahsoka said, out of breath and laying flat on the mat. She’d been disarmed _again_.

“All you need is more practice,” Anakin responded, deactivating his blades and offering her a hand up. 

And practice she did. At sparring and brewing tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? What did you think?
> 
> The interactions between these three just warm my heart. It’s the cutest shit I’ve ever seen, every time. I tried to incorporate some of Ms_Gallows headcanons about Ahsoka liking the blooming flower teas because what a great idea?!? Can’t pass that up!
> 
> I alluded to sparring with Obi-Wan and I promised I’d write a scene of her and Obi-Wan together, so look forward to that. It’ll be it’s own oneshot in the universe after I finish up this fic. I’m definitely not the first to write about Obi-Wan teaching Ahsoka Jar’Kai, and I shouldn’t be the last. It’s perfect and you can’t tell me it didn’t happen. I mean, come on. Did you see him fight Maul and Savage? 
> 
> As always, thank you to Ms_Gallows and @theunethicalscientist on tumblr for inspiration and edits. Where would I be without them?
> 
> Please feel free to join me on tumblr to scream about everything Star Wars. I have a blog specifically for it @kenobiapologist and I’d love to hear your thoughts about this AU or any of the new content they announced!


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